


Pair of Forgivers

by sidonay



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidonay/pseuds/sidonay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>What did you do.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>You wouldn't believe me if I told you.</i></p><p> </p><p> Scott joked at one point when they were older that those two lines should be turned into the family motto, scrawled under a crest made of bloody knuckles and liquor bottles. Herc didn't laugh but, then again, he never did have much in the way of a sense of humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pair of Forgivers

**Author's Note:**

> From the minute I read [this post](http://jekyllsarchive.tumblr.com/post/57932853662/marshallherculeshansen-3-its-clear-a-lot-of) on tumblr, I knew I was going to be in trouble. I had ideas for what I could write almost instantly and, for a little while, I tried to convince myself not to start anything but then I picked an actor who I thought would be a great Scott Hansen (Ty Olsson, in case any of you were curious) and I made a graphic and... well. The rest is history, as they say. This isn't as long as I thought it would be and, honestly, it could have been a heck of a lot longer but I reigned myself in because nobody really wants to read a novel about the Hansens. I've read it over and fixed any mistakes I saw but I apologize in advance if there was anything I missed.

When Herc Hansen was fourteen, he sat on the floor of the family living room, staring at the blank screen of their television because he wasn't allowed to turn it on before dinner. He would have rather been outside in their small patch of grass that was supposed to be a backyard, hands in the dirt, fingers wrapped around the action figures he would never admit he hadn't quite grown out of yet or maybe running through the streets with his friends and it wouldn't have mattered to him if he got soaked by a little storm but it mattered to his mother and that was enough of a reason to stay indoors.

As he stared, he listened, keeping an ear open and directed towards the front door. He and his mother were the only ones home and he knew where she was: fussing in the kitchen, banging pans and spoons around like she was the drummer in a band. He was waiting for his brother.

Twelve-year-old Scott, who showed up less and less frequently as the days rolled on but more often covered with bruises when he did finally manage to stumble back. Their mother asked until she got exhausted of the words tumbling out of her mouth like water over a fall and Scott's answers became shorter and shorter until her repeated queries were met with a simple shrug of a broad shoulder. Eventually, all she would do was hand him ice stuffed in a sandwich bag and wrapped in a paper towel for his face and offer a cloth bag for his ruined clothes (one evening, Herc had snuck down to the basement to witness her bent over a basin, crying and scrubbing at one of Scott's shirts).

His mother had told Scott that morning that she wanted him back before five that afternoon and, even though he knew it would never happen, Scott had nodded, assured her that, of course, he'll be there at five, not a minute later.

It was now almost six, the sun was setting, dinner was almost finished, and Scott still wasn't there.

It never occurred to any of them that a twelve-year-old boy shouldn't be out without supervision, that if it had been either of them it should have been Herc out there and Scott the obedient young boy in the living room, legs crossed and impatience beating in his chest.

The phone began to ring at the exact same moment a crash of thunder rattled the windows and Herc tensed, hearing his mother drop a dish. She picked up the receiver on the third ring and Herc rose to his feet, shuffling towards the doorway and peering around the corner, straining to hear what the male voice on the other end was saying, but all he heard was a low mumble. His mother took in a sharp inhale but didn't let it out right away and she leaned up against the sticky counter as she closed her eyes. _Yes_ , she said, _Yes, that's him. Yes, that's me. Yes, I'll be there right away._

_Yes. Yes._

_Yes._

Herc could hear the dial tone on the other end of the line but his mother didn't move the phone away from her ear.

“Your brother's in trouble,” she said softly, so soft that Herc had to come further into the room, stepping gingerly over the threshold as if the floor was rigged with landmines. Her red hair hung limp, hiding her face. “He's at the police station. Go put on your shoes.”

There was a flash of lightning and it started to pour.

 - - - -

Herc hadn't been allowed to go any farther than the waiting area, seats filled with worried and angry strangers, so he didn't get to see his brother until he was being marched through the doors his mother had drifted through earlier, her nails digging into his shoulders as if she thought he would try to make a run for it. He didn't get to talk to him until they were both strapped in to the backseat of the dying sedan their father had left behind when he had walked away five years ago.

“What did you do,” he asked quietly, leaning sideways towards Scott in an attempt to keep the conversation private, getting a glimpse of beat-up hands as they passed under flickering orange street lights. There was a bit of blood at the corner of Scott's mouth when he smiled and he curled his hands into fists, resting them in his lap.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

 - - - -

Dinner was cold by the time they had gotten home and it was past both of their bedtimes, but their mother reheated the food in the oven and let them both stay up late to eat it, sitting at the head of the table, watching her boys devour what was on their plates in silence, not so much as picking up her own fork.

“Herc,” she said once the dishes made their way into the sink, “Why don't you go upstairs and get ready for bed. I need to talk to your brother.” It wasn't a suggestion and he began to do as he was told, but rather than continue up, he stopped in the middle of the staircase, lowered himself down onto a step and pressed his face into the bars of the railing.

He waited for her to start yelling, but she never raised her voice.

Twenty minutes later, Scott rounded the corner, hesitating at the bottom of the stairs when he saw Herc sitting there. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, both glancing away towards the kitchen when they thought they heard their mother approaching but she never showed.

“What did you do,” Herc asked again. Scott made his way up to him, looking as if he was going to move past without responding but he dropped down next to him instead.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Scott repeated. They sat there until their mother finally found them and chased them upstairs.

 - - - -

_What did you do._

_You wouldn't believe me if I told you._

Scott joked at one point when they were older that those two lines should be turned into the family motto, scrawled under a crest made of bloody knuckles and liquor bottles. Herc didn't laugh but, then again, he never did have much in the way of a sense of humor.

 - - - -

“Did you hear about what Scott did?”

People asked Herc that at least once day, sometimes more, the question coming out with a rush of excitement, breathless and wide-eyed and Herc wasn't sure if they were coming to him with this because they already knew and wanted to share the wealth with someone related to him or if they were hoping he'd have something worthwhile to tell them.

“No,” he'd say. “What'd he do this time?”

Herc didn't understand why he wanted to know. He told himself that the next time a person came up during lunch or when he was trying to do anything but think about the shit his little brother was getting messed up in, he'd tell them to fuck off.

But he never did.

“Can you believe what happened with Scott this afternoon?”

“No,” Herc said, forcing a smile. “What'd he do?”

 - - - -

The last time Herc had accompanied his mother to the grocery store, he was eleven.

He was sixteen and in the driveway, battling with his mother's car, attempting to fix it one more time as if trying to coax a few more years out of a dying animal, when she called to him from the front yard.

“I'm going to the store,” she said, coming out to him, walking around a slick patch of oil. “Will you come with me?” Not _would you like to_ but _will you_.

“The car isn't fixed yet,” he told her, gesturing towards the engine.

“It's alright. It's not far. We can walk.”

Herc assumed it was because she needed to talk to him about something, something uncomfortable for the both of them and put him in a position where escaping from the conversation would be difficult, but they spoke about inane and unimportant topics littered in between moments of companionable silence. It wasn't until they walked into the store that Herc realized why she had wanted him by her side.

Looks of derision, whispers and subtle gestures, mumblings and heavy sighs floated around them like a bad odor. Cartons or containers that his mother picked up and put back were left untouched by others. Herc couldn't make out full sentences, but the one word that almost always managed to make it's way to him was “Scott”.

He was there as protection.

Their disgust was a bullet and Herc was armor.

 - - - -

_Where are you, Scott._

_How much do you need?_

The answers were almost always _I'm not sure_ and not _a lot_.

“Guess it's time to change the family crest,” Herc said one early morning as he sat in the driver's seat of the old car, resting his arms on the steering wheel, watching Scott out of the corner of his eye as the kid (sixteen-fucking-years-old) fumbled with the safety cap on a bottle of aspirin. Scott laughed and Herc almost smiled until he realized that the noise had been for the fact that Scott had finally opened the bottle and that he hadn't heard a word that Herc said.

Herc was due to leave in a couple of days, but they hadn't talked about it since the day that Herc had announced he was joining the military. His mother had put her hand over her mouth like she was going to be sick. She had tried to talk him out of it but he argued and pushed and eventually she backed off, patted him on the arm and smiled sadly. Scott had said nothing for hours until finally asking if he was sure that was what he wanted, like somebody was holding a gun to Herc's head, threatening him to become a solider. _Of course I'm sure_ , Herc had said and that was the end of the discussion.

“You know I'm going at the end of the week,” Herc said as Scott dry-swallowed four of the round, white pills and he flickered his gaze back towards the convenience store in front of them, feeling Scott freeze.

“Yeah, so?” Scott shrugged, shifting, squinting painfully against the sun.

“Whatever you're into,” Herc said, exhaled heavily, “you'll be on your own.”

Scott snorted.

“Can we go home now? I really need a shower.”

Avoid, avoid, avoid.

 - - - -

His mother was there to say goodbye.

Scott was not.

\- - - -

“Where are you?”

It was Scott asking this time, his voice thick like somebody had coated the inside of his mouth with molasses, crackling because of a bad connection.

“I'm not home,” Herc said into the receiver. There was a lengthy pause on the other end and Herc could hear shouting and breaking bottles in the background. His commanding officer was hovering behind him, angry that Herc had gotten a call at such an odd hour, only allowing him to answer the phone because Herc had called it an emergency before he even knew why Scott had called. He had given Scott the number before he left and he had snatched the paper from Herc's fingers. Herc had assumed he'd thrown it away. “Scott—”

“Right. You're not here.” Someone screamed and sirens began to wail. Scott said nothing more and disappeared with a click.

Herc stood there with the phone pressed to his ear, tried to call back but nobody picked up.

He fell asleep that night with the sounds of sirens buzzing in the back of his head.

 - - - -

Scott called a few more times but it's mostly Herc reaching out to him instead. Whenever Scott picked up the phone, he sounded wary and nervous as if he was expecting someone else but when he hears it's Herc, he loosens up, just a bit, enough to make it seem like everything is fine.

Their conversations were peppered with nothing but small talk, Herc unable to find a decent segue into asking about Scott's various extracurricular activities.

After Scott graduated high school, he stopped calling.

The only times he ever heard about him is when Herc talks to their mother, but it was never anything good.

 - - - -

He meets Angela through a mutual friend and, by the second date, he already knows she's the one.

The first person he wanted to tell was Scott, because that's what brothers are for, but when Herc dialed the number he got an automated voice on the other end informing him that the number he's trying to reach has been disconnected.

His mother finds Scott's new number buried under a pile of paper scraps and notes but, by the time it's there, scrawled onto the palm of his hand for lack of a better surface, he can't be bothered.

But he holds onto it anyway, just in case.

\- - - -

Scott doesn't show up for the wedding and Herc has to make one of his friends his best man at the last minute.

He found out later that Scott's reason for not showing up was because he was in jail.

\- - - -

When Angela became pregnant, Herc called Scott.

Nobody picked up.

He tried three more times and, on the fourth attempt, a woman answered. When Herc asked for his brother, she says that he isn't there.

“As in 'now' or 'not anymore'?”

She makes a sound like someone who's filled their head and veins with so many drugs that even the simplest question feels like you've just asked them to explain a complicated scientific theory. Herc says _nevermind_ and hangs up.

\- - - -

Herc's son Chuck is three-years-old when there's a knock on the front door and Herc, home for a few months, opens it to see Scott on his doorstep.

“What did you do,” Herc heard himself ask and Scott grinned.

“You wouldn't believe me,” he said, shifting the heavy bag on his shoulder, if I told you.”

\- - - -

The house isn't quite big enough for the four of them, but they make it work because Scott is family and he promised to only stay for a couple of weeks. He claimed he was just passing through but wouldn't be clear about where the end destination was for him and Herc figured they'd all be better off if they didn't know.

Angela didn't like him but she was too polite to actually say anything about it, even when she and Herc were in bed and they would be the only ones to hear her confession. He didn't need her to speak to know how she felt: he could see it in the way she walked, the way she would purse her lips and change the subject whenever Scott tried to tell them a story that started with him waking up somewhere he didn't recognize or with an empty bottle of alcohol in his fist.

The way that she wouldn't let him be alone with Chuck for the first few days Scott was there.

Chuck fell in love the minute Scott set foot in the house and, from that moment on, Scott could do no wrong in the eyes of the young boy. They stood up for each other, Scott taking Chuck's side whenever Chuck broke a rule, Chuck balling his tiny hands into fists when he thought his mother wasn't being fair to his uncle.

When Herc and Angela wanted to go out to dinner alone, Chuck insisted that if he had to have somebody watch him until they came back, it would be Scott.

Angela argued with Herc for all of five minutes before she relented.

They came back three hours later to find both Scott and Chuck were gone. Herc was getting ready to go out and look for them when their phone rang.

The police officer lead Chuck to Herc and Angela and calmly explained that another one of their officers had pulled the car over and not only found that the vehicle was stolen but that Scott had been drinking and that _this young child_ , he said, gesturing towards Chuck who was being held by Angela, her fingers pressed into his shoulders and Herc flashed back to that night when Scott was twelve, _was in the passenger seat_.

Herc asked if he could see his brother and, once they were left alone, Herc punched him in the jaw.

“Whenever they let you out,” he said as Scott held his face, spitting blood on the floor, “you will get your stuff and get the hell out of my house.”

He never said the words _and never come back_.

He didn't have to.

 - - - -

When the Kaiju attacked, Herc had to make a choice.

Chuck would never forgive him for it.

\- - - -

His mother had died a few years earlier so Scott was the only real family he had left. He doesn't know how he managed it, but Herc tracked Scott down and told him about what happened, about what he had done.

“It's alright,” Scott lied to him, sounding the most sober he ever had since he was fifteen. “You'll be fine. I forgive you,” he said. “I forgive you.”

“Why?” Herc asked. “Why are you saying that?”

“Because somebody has to. And it might as well be me.”

\- - - -

Scott showed up for the funeral in a cheap suit and smelling of whiskey, telling Herc that he didn't have enough cash in his pocket and asking if he could loan him a few bucks so he could pay the taxi driver who brought him there. Herc nearly hit him again, pushed him out the doors, but he didn't have the strength for it. He shoved what money he had with him in Scott's fist and half expected him to walk out and not come back in but, when he did, he put a hand on Herc's shoulder and stared at him.

Herc leaned forward, closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Scott's and Scott froze for a few seconds before leaning into it and they stood there like that for what felt like an eternity.

“I killed her,” Herc said softly.

“No,” Scott said, tightening his grip. “Don't think like that. You start thinking that way and it's all darkness from there. Don't follow me down that road.”

After it was all over, Herc told Scott that he was moving to a different base and taking Chuck with him. Scott said he would come with them. He needed a change of scenery.

\- - - -

Chuck spent most of his time with Scott because Herc couldn't be there and, even when he could, he didn't know what he was supposed to do with his child anymore, his child who blamed him for the loss of his mother, implying that there had been a way for Herc to save them both but that he had been too selfish or lazy to bother to try. The first time Chuck had said that, in only the way a six-year-old could, Herc had lashed out, shouted until his throat was raw and it wasn't until he had run out of steam that he realized he had just given Chuck more fuel for his fire.

Scott was safe and the thought that anyone could see Scott as harmless made the hair on the back of Herc's neck stand on end, every muscle twitch like frayed wires were jammed under his skin but it was either this or leave Chuck with strangers.

He'd come back from fighting, come back from briefings—people were starting to talk about a program that was being called “Jaeger”, but nobody knew enough about it to be specific—to find that Chuck knew words he hadn't learned from Herc, had made friends with people who shouldn't be in the company of a kid, frequented places that not even grown men should be spending their days. The two of them would argue about it while Chuck sat in the next room and Scott would promise it would never happen again.

But it always did.

\- - - -

When Herc officially heard about the Jaeger Program, he needed it explained to him two more times, not because he didn't understand it, but because he didn't believe it was real. People inside giant robots to fight the monsters? It was like something out of a comic book.

It wasn't until they showed him video of it, proof that it worked, that he started to finally believe.

They elucidated on the idea of “drift compatibility” and he knew what they were going to ask him before the words even left their mouths, but he still flinched when they did.

_You have a brother, right?_

\- - - -

The first time they properly drifted, Herc finally saw what happened that night when Scott was twelve. He was shaking when they disconnected.

Scott just laughed and asked him if Molly Fay really had been Herc's first.

\- - - -

They fought well together, took down more Kaiju than any other team so far and Herc appreciated the attention he got because of it, accepted the pats on the back, the kisses on the cheek, the children treating him like a superhero and talk shows climbing over one another just to get him and Scott on air for a few minutes. But he didn't surround himself with it, couldn't let it become his life.

Scott, on the other hand, lavished in it, soaked it up like an over-sized sponge dropped into a lake. He'd spend days away from the base, arriving hungover and exhausted to battle calls, Herc's brain being slammed with memories of debauchery and fist-fights that were more and more difficult to ignore.

He had dreams where he was his brother, gambling in smoke-filled rooms behind packed and noisy bars, could almost taste the blood in his mouth when a tattooed fist collided with it, could smell and feel the skin of women whose names he never learned. The only one he ever told was Stacker Pentecost, the man who had introduced the Program to him in the first place, a man who had slowly become the closest thing to a best friend Herc had ever had.

“It's normal,” Stacker had said as they shared a couple of beers. He told Herc about the first time he had dreamt he was Tamsin, his co-pilot, and how he had told her the next morning and she had admitted to something similar. Stacker inquired whether Herc had brought it up with Scott and Herc said no.

He didn't want to know what Scott saw.

\- - - -

It was after a long weekend—a weekend where Scott had been gone since he was told he could leave for awhile—when the sirens began to wail and Herc was informed that, despite the fact they were supposed to be resting, they were needed. Herc carefully roused Scott who was, surprisingly, in his bunk, waited as he dug through their medicine cabinet for something to soothe his head, and they suited-up, marching through the sudden downpour towards their Jaeger.

Everything had been as normal as it usually was, but then Herc caught a glimpse of a memory that wasn't familiar.

He knew he should let it go but he couldn't.

What he saw nearly killed them and the only reason they didn't die was because Scott managed to eject them before they found themselves at the bottom of the ocean, buried under tons of metal.

\- - - -

“What the _fuck_ ,” Scott demanded once they were in the mess hall, after their wounds had been bandaged and Herc had gone to find Chuck, to tell him that he was okay and Chuck had pretended not to care but Herc had seen the fear dissipate from his eyes once he had seen his father standing in the doorway of the training room. Other pilots and techs who were in the vicinity turned at the noise, lowering their discussions to a murmur, watching the fight unfold.

Herc was sitting alone, a cup of coffee clenched in his hand, knuckles going white as he stared at the table. He didn't want this, not now. The sound of Scott's voice brought the images—the images that never really left—back into his head, swirling and flashing like a silent film and he felt bile rising in his throat. Scott slammed his fist into the table and everyone but Herc jumped.

In an instant, Herc flung his mug to the side, the porcelain shattering upon impact, hot coffee splashing against the wall, and he leapt over the table, curled his tense fingers into Scott's jacket and pulled him close enough that anything he was going to say would be heard by nobody else but the two of them.

“I saw,” Herc said through clenched teeth. “I saw what you did.” He didn't specify, but he didn't have to because the look of panic that hit Scott's entire face was enough to tell him that Scott knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Herc—” Scott started to say but Herc shook him until he stopped trying to talk.

“Don't you _dare_ try to come up with an excuse. You will shut up and you will listen to what I tell you. I will tell them what I saw. I will tell them exactly what you did. You will take whatever consequences they give you and then you will walk away. You will never talk to me again. You will never even so much as _look_ at my son again. Do you understand.”

Scott nodded. Herc let him go and watched as Scott turned and left.

\- -

Three days later, Herc entered their room to see Scott putting his last few pieces of clothing into his bag. The bed was already stripped down and Chuck had begun to move his things in to replace his uncle's.

Neither of them said anything but, just as Scott was about to leave, Herc grabbed him by the elbow and turned him back around. He stepped forward and leaned his forehead against Scott's.

“It's alright,” he said, lying to him. “You'll be fine. But I don't forgive you.”

\- - - -

_“Scott,” Herc finally said as they lay in the dark, once he was sure that their mother was out of earshot. He knew his little brother wasn't asleep in his bed across the room and it was confirmed when saw Scott roll over onto his back. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened tonight?”_

_“No,” Scott said after a minute. “No, I won't.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because you'd never forgive me for it.”_

_“Of course I would,” Herc said. “You're my brother. I'll always forgive you.”_

_Outside, the rain finally stopped._


End file.
